RENTON — Travis Britt sees the bright side of nearly everything. Even the bone cancer that cast a shadow on his future and darkened the senior football season he worked so hard for.

The once-strapping 17-year-old now struggles to force down a meal, thanks to mouth sores caused by chemotherapy, and gets most of his nutrition from a feeding tube. His Kentridge helmet has been replaced by a stocking cap he wears to cover his bald head. Defensive sticks have given way to daily pricks from needles for blood tests.

Britt, known for his big hits as Kentridge's middle linebacker last fall, must now tackle a disease that has a one-in-five survival rate. But he faces his battle with Ewing's syndrome with the same determination that he showed on the football field.

Britt is not a "why me?" kind of guy.

"I don't have time," he says. "I can't be sad, because what's that going to accomplish? I just kind of figure, 'All right, I have to do this.' "

In his typical glass-half-full outlook, he has found a few perks to his situation.

"I got to meet the Seahawks," he says with a smile, referring to the afternoon he spent at the NFL team's practice last week, thanks to an auctioned prize someone donated.

The 6-foot-2 Britt, whose weight dropped 45 pounds to 175 before the feeding tube was inserted Sept. 1, can make light of things that would weigh heavily on others. Like the regular hospital stays for chemotherapy that keep him flat on his back for days.

"It's not as bad as it's made out," Britt says. "You can lay down and watch TV. You've got nurses that pretty much wait on you."

Bob Britt, Travis' father, chimes in: "We call it Travis' time share, with bed service."

"Adults say when he enters the house, everyone's attitude changes," says Bob, who shaved his hair to support his only child. "They're all laughing."

Travis' friends — and he has a ton of them — are not surprised.

"He's always optimistic, always upbeat, even after finding out [about the cancer]," teammate Pat Dullenty says. "He's still T-Britt. He hasn't changed. He's without hair and he's smaller, but he has not lost who he has always been. He's always cracking jokes and laughing."

"That's how I deal with it," says Travis, who shaved his head after most of his hair came out in clumps following his first chemo treatment. "You have to have a good outlook on it to beat it. If you don't, you'll just be wasting away."

Bob says Travis rarely complains.

"Rarely does he sit and become melancholy over his disease or worry about dying," Bob says. "He just doesn't do it. ... He's more upset about the discomfort and what he's missing than he is about the disease."

What Travis misses most is football. After leading the Chargers in tackles as a junior and earning All-South Puget Sound League North Division honorable mention, he expected big things this fall. He bulked up to 220 pounds, could bench-press 320 and was getting college recruiting interest.

Kentridge coach Marty Osborn believed Britt would emerge as one of the top linebackers in the league.

"He was going to be our defensive leader," Osborn says. "We had expectations that he could challenge for the school tackles record."

Travis began experiencing symptoms in February, although he didn't realize it. During early production for a school play — Travis played Moose, the ditzy cowboy in "Crazy for You" — he experienced soreness in his back and a burning sensation in his hips. He began tiring easily and had to lay down between scenes of the play. "Crazy for You" opened in April and Travis was a hit, but his doctors couldn't explain his symptoms.

"He had a couple of scenes where he kind of stole the show," his father says.

On June 17, Bob got the call that it was cancer, although doctors still didn't know which type. He called Travis at school and told him he needed to come home.

"I thought I was in trouble," Travis remembers.

It was worse. When Bob gave him the stunning news, Travis' first thought was football.

"Not, 'Oh, am I going to live?' or 'What's going to happen?'" Travis says. "It was, 'I can't play football?' I know that's kind of sad in a way, but that was my first concern. Then it kind of sank in."

The worst was yet to come. On June 23, Travis and his family met with doctors at Children's Hospital who told him what kind of cancer he has.

"I asked, 'What's my chances?' and they said, 'Are you sure you want to know?' And I said, 'Absolutely.' They told me one-in-five, and I was in shock. Then it was, all right, let's start working on it. I think my parents took it harder than I did."

So did his teammates, who had left for a football camp at Washington State University. Travis called his buddy Dullenty at about 1:30 in the morning. He and teammate Brian Tesch awakened coaches and the rest of the team to relay the news.

"We just broke down," Dullenty says. "He's the one guy in the lineup we never expected anything to happen to. He was like a rock."

Says Tesch: "It was like getting punched in the stomach, only 100 times worse."

Travis had split time between his mom and dad, who are divorced, but has moved in full time with his father, Bob's fiancée and her three children because Bob's home is closer to Children's Hospital.

Travis' mother, Theresa, remains actively involved in her son's treatment program and organized a spaghetti feed at a recent Kentridge game, raising nearly $3,500 to help offset costs not covered by insurance. In all, some $8,000 has been raised in a "Money for Moose" fund established at Bank of America. There was a "Trims for Travis," where dozens had their heads shaved in support. About 1,000 "Brittstrong" bracelets have been sold.

The Chargers have dedicated their season to Travis and their mantra is "Do it for 6," Travis' number. Nearly 50 players shaved their heads before the season opener with Enumclaw to show their support. In his absence, Travis' jersey was draped over the team bench, and captains took it to midfield for the pregame coin flip.

At Kentridge's first home game, Travis felt well enough to wear the jersey and, in an emotional moment, walk onto the field while holding hands with teammates.

He was named an honorary caption and sat next to his father on the sideline. By halftime, he had a slight fever, and he was back in the hospital the next day as his white blood cell count plummeted.

Travis' illness has affected everyone who knows him and given them a different perspective. Dullenty recalls when his sick teammate came to Kentridge's senior football meeting, where players discuss team goals and the future.

"He talked about how you just never know when it's going to be taken away," Dullenty says. "It just really makes us think that, yeah, we could slack off at this drill, but why? It could be our last drill. It could be our last play.

"It's a reality check. Our world may be consumed with football in that moment in time, but it's such a bigger world. There's so much more important things in life."

Travis has his own goals. He'll endure the 27 weeks of chemotherapy and an upcoming surgery to remove the cancer on his left hip. He'll get better, get stronger and return to school next semester.

And he vows to return to the football field next fall. He says he will petition to regain a fifth year of athletic eligibility.

Those who know Travis Britt believe he can fulfill that dream.

"If anybody's got a shot, he's in that upper echelon," says Osborn, his coach. "He has the spirit, the heart, the determination, the drive. He has all the intangibles of someone who can will their way to recovery."

Sandy Ringer: 206-515-1512 or sringer@seattletimes.com